


The Runaway Groom

by elioliver



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: Fluff, M/M, elio goes rogue, wedding crasher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-28 18:53:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15055547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elioliver/pseuds/elioliver
Summary: Two concerned parents, one regretful fiancé, and a determined Elio ruin a wedding.





	The Runaway Groom

Annella and Samuel were the two of the first guests to arrive at the temple. It was quaint, peaceful. A traditional looking synagogue, a well-kept exterior dotted with wildflowers and ivy that creeped over from the tiny, adjacent community garden. One stout step led to the oaken double doors at the front, and standing in front of the doors was a girl, maybe seventeen, in a long blue dress and patent heels. She looked deeply uncomfortable.

Before the Perlmans could climb the solitary step, the young girl cleared her throat. "The wedding has been called off," she said, an awkward blush staining her cheeks. "The bride and groom offer their sincerest apologies for the inconvenience."

Samuel and Annella traded intrigued glances before thanking the young woman and walking back to their rental car. After climbing in, they stared up at the synagogue again. There were other cars in the parking lot, one of which had the word "just" scrawled on the rear window in white marker, a fringe of tulle bunting decorating the bumper. There was a florist carting centerpieces and elaborate potted plants back into a moving van. But other than that, the area was quiet. It was as if the whole town had fallen silent at the news of the cancelled nuptials.

Samuel placed the key in the ignition and went to start the car, turning his gaze to Annella, mouth open to say something—but she stopped him, her hand on his shoulder, gesturing across the parking lot.

Oliver, dressed in a well-fitted tuxedo with a loosed tie around his neck, was peering out from behind a wide door cut into the back of the building. Seeing only the annoyed florist, he turned and spoke to someone behind him, grabbing a hand and running out into the open air towards the half-decorated Cutlass that sat vacant across the empty lot. Samuel's breath caught in his throat.

_ That was his son. _

The curly haired boy broke into a wide grin as he stumbled past streetlights and sedans. The two of them tumbled into the car clumsily, overexcited and oversexed. Annella pulled her eyes away as the car started and began to depart from the abandoned wedding.

"Sam, I thought we left him at the hotel! How did he get here?"

They had managed to coax Elio into the trip to New England by segueing it into a brief family vacation. Neither of them wanted to leave their son in Italy, so they promised that he didn't have to go to the wedding. Placated, Elio joined them on the trip to the states, enjoying the time in New York City enough to forgive the four hours he would be cooped up in a small, upstate hotel while his parents attended the affair.  _ The affair _ was his exact wording, and neither Samuel nor Annella could determine if Elio couldn’t bring himself to say it was a wedding or if he saw it as a genuinely elicit affair, clandestine and disgusting in every way.

Annella sounded a little frantic, but both she and her husband were grinning ear to ear. "I guess he took a cab," Samuel finally said in response, marveling at the wide, slate grey vehicle that turned slowly out onto the main road—as if the person driving was carrying priceless cargo.

Annella removed her hand from his arm and settled back into her seat. She thought of asking where Samuel thought the boys might be going, but he knew that she would already. Instead of responding, he simply turned the key in the ignition and steered the car out of the parking space and onto the street, following the Oldsmobile from an inconspicuous distance. Neither Perlman was surprised when, a few twists and turns later, the festive vehicle veered into the parking lot of the inn where the family was staying. 

Samuel passed the place where Oliver had parallel parked and cruised over to the other end of the building before reversing into a spot near the entrance. Elio’s parents watched as Elio spilled out of the car, talking to the unseen driver and gesticulating wildly through the open passenger door. He nodded vigorously and sprinted into towards the building, up the entry steps, under the awning, then stopping dead in his tracks.

Elio was like a deer in headlights, having caught the watchful eyes of his parents through the windshield of the rented Dodge. Elio cast his eyes back over to the grey car waiting for him and then shifted again towards his parents. Samuel and Annella nodded simultaneously, cueing Elio to resume his run into the lobby as they swung they swung their car doors open in unison to trail after him. Samuel stepped up onto the concrete slab where the revolving hotel door was nestled, offering Annella his arm for support. She, too, pulled herself up and they both glanced warily at the grey car that was still running across the mostly vacant lot.

It was Annella that finally clasped Samuel’s hand and tugged, guiding him into the lobby where they both smiled apologetically at the concierge on behalf of their son. They meandered down the hallway until they reached their room, the door ajar and the sound of a suitcase zipping and unzipping loudly pouring out of the suite.

Elio was sitting on the floor, at the foot of the bed in the first of the two connected rooms, all of his clothes folded in piles around him and being stuffed into the large suitcase in front of his bended knees. Annella knelt to straighten his folding job, tightening and flattening his shirts so that they would all fit neatly back into the suitcase. Samuel blinked, trying to understand what exactly was happening in front of him.

“Where exactly are you going, Elio?”

Elio’s eyes shot up from the half-full luggage and locked with his father’s. Samuel noticed that they seemed vaguely red-rimmed, as if Elio had been crying some time ago. The hazel-colored orbs were as bright and bold as always, though a little wider and more wild than they usually were. 

“I’m just, I’m getting my things out of the way. Oliver needs a place to stay until we go back to Italy in the morning,” Elio blurted. There was no questioning if Oliver could or would or should go with them when they returned to Milan. All three of them knew that the answer was yes, yes, yes. Elio knew that there was room for Oliver at the house in the city, and he knew that they would soon return to the house in northern Italy, where there would always be room for  _ il cauboi _ .

Samuel poked his head out of the doorway to ensure that Oliver was not en route to the hotel room. “Does Oliver have his passport?” Samuel asked, turning back to look at a frazzled Elio. Elio shook his head. No.

“I’ll be back, then,” Samuel said, slipping through the gap between the door and the frame, shutting it securely behind him. He walked briskly down the hall, his eyes trained on the glass revolving door and the grey Oldsmobile that lay beyond it. Samuel brushed a stray piece of lint from the side of his sport coat, striding towards Oliver’s car purposefully. He hoped that Annella might be able to soothe their son by the time the two of them got back. He might’ve stayed behind himself, but with another confused young man waiting in a pollen tinged car in the lot, he thought he might be of better use outside.

Knocking on the window briefly, he opened the door and peered inside, finding Oliver looking surprised and elated in the driver’s seat. “Professor!” Oliver exclaimed, but Samuel detected apprehension under the film of relief on Oliver’s face. “Samuel, Sam, even,” the older man corrected, stooping to sit in the passenger seat of the old car and shutting the door behind him. They hugged, quite awkwardly, given the positions they were in and the gear shift between them, but Samuel had pulled Oliver towards him anyways, eager to silently congratulate him for making such a huge decision. When he pulled back, there were evident tears in Oliver’s eyes.

“So,” Samuel began, a soft smile upon his face. “I hear you are in need of your passport.” Oliver ran a jittery hand through his hair and nodded affirmatively. “Only if I can arrange to follow you to Italy. I wouldn’t expect you to put me up again, of course, I’ll need to find a place; I have enough money to purchase a plane ticket, only I’ve left my clothes and my passport back at my--”

“Oliver,” Samuel said patiently. “Let’s just start with the passport.”


End file.
